


Laundry

by SlytherinSweetheart1



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: F/M, Laundry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-15
Updated: 2019-06-15
Packaged: 2020-05-12 06:58:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19223983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SlytherinSweetheart1/pseuds/SlytherinSweetheart1
Summary: professortennat on tumblr made a list of intimate everyday Sam/Jack moments.In honour of the squee that the list caused, this fic was born.- Sam keeps leaving her things at Jack’s house. Jack keeps washing and returning them. -





	Laundry

**Author's Note:**

  * For [professortennant](https://archiveofourown.org/users/professortennant/gifts).



The team leave laundry all over his house. Well, that isn’t fair. Carter and Daniel leave things all over his house. (And Jack isn’t sure which of them is worse). 

Teal’c (like anyone who has done without), looks after his things meticulously. Daniel, absent minded and distracted, and comfortable as he is with Jack, does not believe in the kind of boundaries that would require he contain the way he encroaches into Jack’s personal space. 

It’s Carter that Jack isn’t sure about. She isn’t overly familiar with him, she doesn’t even call him by his first name, and yet he finds socks, sweaters, jackets, trinkets, all over his home. 

Her laundry is in his laundry basket, her books are on his shelves, her pillow spent a week on his couch (she brought it on a road trip and left it in his car). 

Carter is everywhere in his personal space, and Jack finds it both agonisingand wonderful. If he were a younger man, he may have even ascribed some ulterior motive to it, but she’s been very clear that while she knows how he feels about her, she wants to never talk of it. Ever. 

He’s done her laundry a dozen times now, having found her BDUs or shirts in his gear when he went to unpack at home. It makes no sense that she’s like this, because her house and her lab are immaculate. And so Jack keeps washing, and tidying, and placing the errant items back in her locker or on her desk. 

They never discuss it. Or they didn’t, until now. 

“Sir, this isn’t mine.”

She had been pacing outside his office door for some minutes now. Jack didn’t like inviting trouble, and a Carter this aggravated (or energised) usually meant that he was about to approve the destruction of a solar system or spend six days in an underground cavern eating leaches, or something equally as horrifying in her quest for science. 

He wasn’t expecting this. 

“Sorry, Carter, what isn’t yours?”

Samantha Carter is in his office, holding a black, lacy, slip. The offending item is dangling from her hand by one strap, and Jack is sure he has seen her more forgiving of snakes (both earthly and intergalactic).

“Well, it isn’t mine.” He says, startled by the accusation, rising to his feet in surprise. If possible, she looks more offended. 

“You. You.” She stutters, in rage, and then, as if she was determined to have this conversation one way or another, takes a step forward to fully enter the room, and lets the door shut behind her. “You wanted me to find it?”

“Of course not, Carter.” From her expression, that was the wrong answer. 

“I just think that if you think I would ... at your house... you know what, just give it back to whoever, and I won’t leave things at your house again.”

“I don’t know whose it is!” He says, and now she looks like she wants to hit him. 

“Well, it isn’t mine!” She throws his words back at him, stalking forward to throw the silk at his desk. This looks like a lover’s spat, and Jack is mindful of the cameras. He has to put a stop to this now. 

“Major, you are out of line!” If he had ever had a fantasy about a submissive Carter, he realises now that they were all wrong. This woman would be the death of him.

Her title hits her like a bucket of cold water. She visibly straightens, and then, crumples in on her self. “Sir, you didn’t leave this in my locker?” Her voice is low and embarrassed in realisation.

“Oh for crying out loud, Carter, really? I’m your CO.”

“You’ve been, umm, returning, my things. I just thought.” If he had ever heard her sound more mortified, Jack would be surprised. Still, like a terrier with the bit between her teeth, she wasn’t letting go.

“You thought I found a black lingerie slip in my house and thought of you?” 

But he realises now. This may be the wrong room for it, but it was a room, and they were about to have a very different conversation “Carter, are you jealous?”

She looks murderous.

“Oh, Carter. Really? After what happened six months ago?”

“Six months is a long time, Sir.”

He is crowding her, so close, that she can breathe in the warmth of him. “Is it, Sam?” His eyes are boring into her, holding her hostage, asking her if she still cared more than she should, or if she had betrayed him. “No.” Sam whispers, into his chest, her face seeking the curve of his shoulder. Jack’s arms are around her, the cameras and good sense both long forgotten. 

The moment passes, and soon enough, he is taking a step back. His hand is on hers. “I wouldn’t blame you, if you had found someone, Carter, I want you to be happy.”

It fills her with shame. 

“I want you to be happy Sir, but not..” she glances at the silk slip on the desk. It makes him laugh. 

“It wasn’t me, Carter. Someone else thinks black silk and lace suits you.”

“It’s not hard to mess with the lockers, or the gear bags, Sir. So, uh?”

“So, uh,” he repeats, teasingly “I’ll still keep doing your laundry, is that what you’re saying, Carter?”

“Yes, Sir. That’s what I’m, saying.”

“Can I ask why your shirts are always in my gear?”

The silence is heavy with words unsaid. 

“Thank you, Sir.”

“You too, Carter.” But the image, the image of her wearing the clothes he washed, it fills him with some strange male possessiveness. Her clothes, spinning with his, it would have to do for now. 


End file.
